


Charles and the Ghost of Future Past (The A Glass of Water Remix)

by lachatblanche



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Time Travel, Time-Travelling Ghosts, and other nonsense, mild crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-02 08:27:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19437682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lachatblanche/pseuds/lachatblanche
Summary: Charles likes to think that he’s a patient man and that he’s able to tolerate a lot. Having the ghost of his dead future self follow him around all day, is, however, not one of those things.





	Charles and the Ghost of Future Past (The A Glass of Water Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1848pianist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1848pianist/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Glass of Water](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15305028) by [1848pianist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1848pianist/pseuds/1848pianist). 



The Haunting, if that is what one can call being stalked by the ghost of your own future self, started on a grey and cloudy Saturday morning in the middle of March. Charles, who had spent the night before drinking his own body weight in alcohol, had woken up with a head stuffed full of cotton, a tongue twice the size it had been the night before, and voice that sounded suspiciously like his own (albeit aged up a decade or three) tutting in his ear.

‘Not really your proudest moment, this, is it, old thing?’

For a moment Charles thought that his internal monologue - sounding miraculously clear and decipherable, given the circumstances - had somehow become _external_. The illusion did not last long.

‘Wake up.’ The voice came again, sounding impatient. ‘We haven’t got all day.’

Charles peeled his eyes apart and looked up blearily into the face of, what he thought at that moment, was a very old, very bald, very distant relation with very similar features to his own. Then he remembered that, bar one alcoholic mother and one unrelated but thoroughly cherished sister, he didn’t actually have any relations. 

‘The fuck are you,’ he mumbled, far too hungover to summon up any sense of fear or indignation at having a bald stranger invade his room and demand that he wake up.

The stranger at once assumed an expression of exaggerated piety (and if Charles had been concentrating he would have recognised it as the same expression that he used whenever one of his Professors would ask if he had come into class hungover or whenever Raven demanded whether or not he had shagged someone on the dining table). 

‘I,’ the figure said dramatically. ‘Am you.’

Charles took a minute to process this, and then took a minute more. ‘This makes no sense whatsoever,’ he concluded.

‘You can say that again,’ the bald man said dryly. ‘I mean, I’m _dead_.’

‘Exactly,’ Charles said. Then: ‘What?’

*****

It turned out - after a long hot shower, far too many painkillers, and endless cups of tea - that the bald man (‘Please, call me Professor Xavier’. ‘You really want me to address my own self as Professor Xavier?’) really was his future self, as best as Charles could see, and he really was dead, as far as the both of them knew.

‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ Professor Xavier had said sniffily when Charles had tentatively probed as to the cause. He relented slightly as Charles’s face fell, sighing. ‘I’m not exactly sure if I ought to reveal anything about your - _our_ future, you see,’ he said, sounding almost apologetic. He hesitated. ‘I suppose it’s safe enough to say that it was natural causes, in the end.’

‘Ah,’ Charles said. ‘That’s not too bad I suppose.’

‘... Exacerbated by cirrhosis of the liver, of course.’

‘Oh.’ Charles blinked. ‘Bugger.’ He glanced over at the counter where half a dozen empty beer bottles sat innocently. 

‘Quite.’

The conversation had suffered slightly, after that.

‘So,’ Charles asked later, through a forkful of eggs. ‘Why are you here?’

‘Well,’ Professor X said ponderously, stroking his chin. ‘Presumably to impart my considerable wisdom to you so you’re able to make something of yourself.’

‘Ah.’ Charles said, brightening. ‘So we’ve made something of ourselves in the future, have we?’

The Professor coughed. ‘Well...’ he dithered.

‘Are you happy?’ Charles asked.

Professor Xavier blinked. ‘ _Happy_ is a very subjective word,’ he said weakly.

Charles narrowed his eyes. ‘Are you married?’ he demanded.

‘Um.’

‘Do you have kids?’

‘Er...’

Charles blinked. ‘Okay,’ he said slowly. ‘What about my sister? What’s Raven like in the future?’

Professor X brightened. ‘Oh, she’s marvellous,’ he beamed. ‘Happily married for almost twenty years now. And you’re going to love her son when you get to meet him.’

Charles gaped. ‘Wait. _Raven_ is married? Raven has a _son_? But — she doesn’t even want children!’

Professor X shrugged. ‘She must change her mind at some point in the next few decades.’

‘Right,’ Charles said slowly. ‘So let me get this straight: she’s got her life completely sorted and is happily married with an amazing son and I’m ... unmarried and childless and die of a dicky liver.’

‘That ... sounds about the size of it,’ Professor Xavier admitted.

‘Oh,’ Charles said faintly. ‘Right. Good to know.’

*****

The news that Charles would die childless and alone in the distant future would have been enough to keep him in bed for the next two weeks, had he been left to himself.

Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t.

Even more unfortunately, Professor Xavier had now finally decided what his purpose was in haunting his past self, and that purpose, to Charles’s great chagrin, was to be a matchmaker.

‘It’s perfect,’ Professor Xavier said confidently. ‘I know exactly the sort of person you should be matched with. It will all work out. You’ll see.’

Charles just looked mournfully at his now empty countertop, and sighed.

*****

The problem with you, Charles, an ex girlfriend had told him once before breaking up with him, is that you think you know better than anyone else.

Charles hadn’t known how true she was until he was faced with the prospect of being lectured by the older version of himself who very clearly hadn’t received the same criticism at any point in his past and therefore proceeded to offer his unwanted opinions on any matter under the sun at any time of the day (or night for that matter).

‘You don’t want any of that cheap supermarket stuff,’ he would say when Charles was about to make tea. ‘Earl Grey, that’s the thing for us. The drink of cultured men.’

‘You really ought to throw those in the bin,’ he’d remark with distaste as Charles would pull on his fingerless gloves. ‘They give off completely the wrong impression.’

‘Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to wear a nice, well-pressed suit instead?’ He’d ask meaningfully as Charles got dressed in the morning, pulling on whatever was closest to hand.

No amount of glaring, swearing or ignoring seemed to put him off. The only time he faltered was when Charles, driven to distraction, had at last burst out with, ‘Will you stop? This is just like living with mother!’

Professor Xavier had been stunned into silence at that. He had kept a low profile for the rest of the day until Charles, cursed with the liability of having a soft heart, had half-heartedly asked him his opinion on whether he preferred lambswool or cashmere in his cardigans.

He promptly regretted the kindness.

*****

‘What about him?’

Charles glanced up, looking over at where his future self was pointing. ‘Hank? Don’t be ridiculous. He’s a friend.’

‘He’s also extremely intelligent, extremely caring and — and this is a bonus — extremely malleable.’

Charles’s eyes narrowed. ‘So what you’re saying is you want me to date my very nice, very intelligent friend because it’ll be easy for you to push him around?’

‘No,’ Professor Xavier corrected him. ‘I want you to date your very nice, very intelligent friend because it’ll be easy for _you_ to push him around.’

‘You really are the worst,’ Charles muttered under his breath. ‘It’s not happening. We’re moving on.’

Professor Xavier sighed. ‘Your loss,’ he said, but did as he was told.

*****

‘Emma Frost.’

‘You mean Scary Emma?’ Charles’s eyes widened. ‘Ice queen Emma? The one who made her last date cry because he made the mistake of wearing an orange tie to dinner with her? On their first date?’

Professor Xavier raised an eyebrow. ‘You know, you end up being very good friends in the future,’ he said reprovingly.

‘I think we’re going to be better off as friends,’ Charles said, shaking his head. ‘I’d mark this one as a no.’

*****

‘Hey what about Azazel?’ Charles asked at one point.

Professor Xavier got a strange look on his face.

‘He’s handsome,’ Charles said quickly. ‘And he’s smart. And I really don’t think those rumours about him being part of the Russian mob are _true_ ...

Professor Xavier bit his lip. 

‘... And you’re behaving really oddly about this so go on,’ Charles sighed. ‘Let me have it. What, is he in with the Russian mob in the future? Does he go to jail? Is he a serial killer? What?’

‘Oh no, none of those things,’ Professor Xavier said, shaking his head quickly. ‘Nothing like that. It’s just ...’ he hesitated. ‘I think it’s best that you just leave this one. Just ... trust me on this.’

‘Oh ... well, I suppose,’ Charles said dubiously. He sighed. ‘I guess it was a long shot anyway. We probably don’t have very much in common. Besides,’ he added as he went to make himself a cup of tea. ‘He’s always seemed to be kind of more interested in Raven, to be honest.’

Professor Xavier coughed discreetly into his fist.

He gallantly didn’t make any comments about Charles’s choice of tea or the distinct lack of Earl Grey in the cupboard.

*****

‘You know,’ Professor Xavier said some days later, feeling a little put out with his efforts at matchmaking. ‘This isn’t as easy as I thought it was going to be.’

‘You mean finding me the love of my life and the person who I’ll marry and settle down and have kids with?’ Charles murmured as he flipped the pages of his newspaper while sipping from his teacup. ‘Imagine that.’

‘You haven’t agreed to a single one of my suggestions,’ Professor Xavier said accusingly. 

‘You haven’t given me a single valid suggestion!’ Charles retorted, finally looking up from his paper. 

‘What are you talking about? I’ve given you dozens.’

‘Yes, but,’ Charles wrinkled his nose. ‘You were being all strategic and mercenary and tactical about it and I just — I don’t _want_ that! All I want is someone nice and kind and hopefully good looking who will do things like kiss me on the nose and play with my hair and listen to me talk about my thesis at all hours ...’ He trailed off as he saw Professor Xavier’s distinctly unimpressed expression.

‘This,’ Professor Xavier said with feeling. ‘Is going to be _much_ harder than I thought it would be.’ He shook his head. ‘You have no sense of priorities,’ he said sadly.

‘That’s what I was thinking about you, funnily enough.’

Professor Xavier shook his bald head again. ‘Strange to think that I was like you once,’ he murmured wonderingly. ‘Oh, and by the way Charles,’ he added dryly as his younger self began to turn away. ‘I wouldn’t put too much stock in the hair thing if I were you ...’

*****

‘What about him?’

Professor Xavier looked over from his seat in the cafe opposite Charles. He frowned. ‘ _Him?_ ‘ he demanded, his expression the picture of disapproval. ‘Don’t be absurd.’

‘Why not?’

‘Well he’s ...’ Professor Xavier frowned. ‘Unsuitable,’ he said a moment later, holding himself up primly.

‘Absolutely,’ Charles agreed. ‘If by unsuitable you mean gorgeous and exactly my type.’

Professor Xavier looked pained. ‘I don’t deny that he is appealing,’ he said reluctantly. ‘But Charles, we are trying to find you a _life-partner_ — someone who will be suitable to stand beside you in years to come.’

‘No,’ Charles muttered under his breath, ‘That’s what _you’re_ trying to do.’ He ignored Professor Xavier’s words of protest and took a reassuring sip of his tea before turning to smile tentatively over at the object of his admiration, who had just turned away from the counter with a cup of coffee in hand and was frowning around at the near-full seating. His eyes settled on Charles and he paused for a moment, before his mouth pulled upwards into an oddly sharp smile that was really much too attractive.

__

‘Now look what you’ve done,’ Professor Xavier hissed, but Charles wasn’t listening.

__

‘Hi,’ he said breathlessly, looking up at the man who had just approached the table.

__

‘Hi,’ the man smiled back. ‘Do you mind if I sit with you?’

__

‘We don’t mind,’ Charles said quickly.

__

The man raised an eyebrow. ‘We?’ He murmured even as he sat down opposite Charles. 

__

‘I’m a ghost remember,’ Professor Xavier reminded him, throwing a dark look the stranger’s way. ‘Only you can see me.’

__

‘My teacup and I,’ Charles said swiftly, smiling weakly at the man. ‘Because we’re the only ones here at the table. Obviously.’

__

‘Hmm,’ the man considered Charles over the rim of his coffee cup. ‘You know,’ he said after a minute. ‘I’ve seen you around before.’

__

Charles blinked. ‘You have?’ he asked in surprise.

__

The man nodded thoughtfully. ‘Yes. You talk to yourself, sometimes.’

__

‘Oh, do I?’ Charles let out a slightly nervous laugh. 

__

‘You do,’ the man said dryly. Then he suddenly smiled, wide and toothy. ‘I’m Erik.’

__

‘Charles,’ Charles said in response. He cast a quick glance over at Professor Xavier, who was still looking slightly disgruntled. ‘Charles Xavier.’

__

Erik’s grin widened.

__

Professor Xavier sighed. ‘I suppose we all know where this is going ...’ he said morosely.

__

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*****

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It went exactly where they all knew it was going.

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*****

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‘Right,’ Professor Xavier said the next morning as Charles blinked his eyes open, his cheek still pressed into the bicep of Erik’s bare arm. ‘Now you’ve got that out of your system, you can send him on his way and move onto more suitable prospects.’

__

‘Oh bugger off,’ Charles muttered, burying his head deeper into Erik’s arm.

__

Professor Xavier looked deeply affronted.

__

‘Did you say something?’ a low, warm voice murmured behind Charles.

__

Charles immediately brightened. ‘Nothing at all,’ he said, turning over to face Erik and smiling. They both lay there, the both of them smiling at each other.

__

‘Oh dear God,’ Professor Xavier groaned. ‘Are you really going to just stay there all—‘

__

Charles, his smile never wavering, reached behind him, removed his pillow, and flung it at him.

__

It passed straight through Professor Xavier. He blinked, as if stunned by the thought that his own younger self would dare throw a pillow at him.

__

On the bed, Erik raised a lazy eyebrow. ‘Do I want to know?’ he drawled.

__

‘Well,’ Charles said slowly. ‘I could explain it to you ... or you could just kiss me.’

__

Erik thought for a moment. Then he smiled, reached forward, and pulled Charles close.

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*****

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__

Much to Professor Xavier’s chagrin, Erik did not disappear from Charles’s bed after that night.

__

He did not disappear from the rest of Charles’s life either.

__

He was there in the mornings when Charles woke up, he was there in the afternoons when Charles got back from class, and he was there in the evenings when they cuddled up on the sofa together and ate bad takeout straight from the containers.

__

‘I know,’ Charles had agreed pleasantly when Professor Xavier had taken the matter of Erik’s unceasing presence up with him. ‘He’s almost as bad as you are.’

__

Professor Xavier had shut up pretty quickly after that.

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*****

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‘I think you should tell him about me,’ Professor Xavier said, in what was Desperate Attempt Number Nine to break his past self up with his terribly unsuitable boyfriend. ‘Explain things.’

__

Charles eyed him narrowly, looking as if he knew exactly what Professor Xavier was up to. Which, seeing as he was himself a version of Professor Xavier, and as the person — or ghost — in question wasn’t being particularly subtle, was actually very likely.

__

‘I’ll think about it,’ he said at last, much to Professor Xavier’s surprise.

__

‘That’s all I ask,’ Professor said earnestly, even as he mentally compiled the names of seven suitable matches that he had been hoarding for the past few weeks.

__

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*****

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‘So you’re being haunted.’

__

‘Yes.’

__

‘By a ghost.’

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‘Yes.’

__

‘Of your future self.’

__

‘Yes.’

__

‘And he’s bald.’

__

Charles swallowed. ‘Yes.’

__

Erik thought for a moment. ‘I think you’d look good bald,’ he said honestly, shrugging.

__

Charles blinked, and then gave him an embarrassingly soppy, besotted look.

__

Professor Xavier groaned and smacked his head against his palm in disgust.

__

Unfortunately for him, he was a ghost, and transparent, which made the action a great deal more difficult and a lot less satisfying than he’d imagined.

__

His glare, however, captured his sentiments all too well.

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*****

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It was three months and nine days later when Professor Xavier finally gave things up for a lost cause.

__

‘I give up,’ he said on one of the rare occasions when Erik wasn’t around, throwing his hands up in the air and shaking his head. ‘Obviously you’re rather fixed on this fellow and there’s nothing that I can do about it. So I am going to do the gallant thing and step away.’

__

‘Oh thank goodness,’ Charles breathed, setting down his book and turning to face him. ‘I’ve been waiting for you to say that for months!’

__

‘Yes well,’ Professor Xavier said sulkily. ‘You got what you wanted. You win.’

__

Charles smiled. ‘I would say that _we_ win, don’t you think?’ he asked gently. 

__

Professor Xavier turned to look at him.

__

‘I mean,’ Charles continued. ‘If this lasts the way I think — the way I _hope_ it will, then you’ll no longer be alone. Your entire future will be different.’

__

Professor Xavier stared at him. ‘Yes,’ he said slowly, before turning to look at the room around them. ‘Yes, I suppose it will.’

__

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*****

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Professor Xavier disappeared two months later, vanishing into thin air as if he’d never been there.

__

Oddly enough, it was the same day that Charles and Erik moved in together, with the both of them giving up the leases of their respective apartments and moving into a larger, more spacious place that suited the both of them.

__

Charles didn’t notice it at first, still trying to settle into the new space with its new sounds and smells and feelings. Then he realised what it was that he was missing and the bottom fell out of his stomach.

__

‘He’s gone,’ he blurted out in shock.

__

Erik, who by now had become very much used to the fact that there were three people in this relationship (which is to say, two people and a futuristic ghost), looked up in mild concern.

__

‘What’s that?’

__

‘The Professor - _me_ , older me! He’s gone!’

__

Erik frowned. ‘Has that ever happened before?’

__

‘No! He’s always been there. _Always_.’

__

Erik decided to overlook the slightly disturbing voyeuristic angle that this shone on their relationship and instead moved straight onto sympathy.

__

‘Maybe his time was up,’ he said, shrugging. He wasn’t very good at the sympathy thing, you see.

__

Charles’s eyes widened. He sat down heavily in an armchair, looking slightly lost. 

__

Erik frowned. ‘Charles?’ he asked, concerned.

__

‘I’m alright,’ Charles said, giving him a weak smile. ‘It’s just - I spent so long wanting him to be gone and for him to disappear ... and now he has.’

__

Personally, Erik thought that this was a good thing, but he had _some_ tact so he didn’t go ahead and say so. ‘Maybe he’s gone because he doesn’t need to be here anymore,’ he said instead, reaching over and placing his hand in Charles’s knee. ‘Maybe he did what he came here to do. And now that he’d done it, he was free to go.’

__

‘You think so?’ Charles asked, his despondency lifting slightly.

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Erik shrugged. ‘I do. After all, he changed your future.’

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‘Hmm,’ Charles nodded at that, looked thoughtful. ‘Yes, he did. And maybe — just maybe, he changed his too ...’

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*****

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_Thirty-five years in the future_

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Professor Charles Xavier was sitting at one end of the sofa, his feet tucked under Erik’s lap, when Erik brought it up.

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‘Charles ... Remember when you used to say you had that ghost of your older self try to give you dating advice?’

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Charles looked up at him in surprise. ‘What on earth brought this on?’ he asked, curious.

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Erik gave him a lopsided smile and indicated the book that he had been reading. _Ghost Stories_ was printed boldly across the top in bright red letters, and Charles let out a chuckle at the sight.

__

‘Yes, yes, I remember, of course I do,’ he said, smiling fondly. ‘He wouldn’t let me call him Charles, you know — I could only call him Professor Xavier.’

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Erik gave him a sly smile, his silver hair falling low over his forehead. ‘You’re not quite so strict about it though, _Professor_.’

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Charles laughed. ‘No, I’m really not. Perhaps it’s because I still think of him when I hear it.’

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‘You mean _you_ ,’ Erik corrected. ‘He was you, after all.’

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‘Was he?’ Charles looked thoughtful. ‘Well — perhaps. A version of me, I’d say.’

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‘He was a Professor of Genetics like you are,’ Erik pointed out. ‘And everything he told you about Raven and Kurt came true. Not to mention the baldness ...’

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‘Hey,’ Charles protested, but only through force of habit. He had long since grown used to not having hair, though he sometimes thought wistfully about how soothing it had been to have Erik running his hand through his luxurious locks while he napped. ‘And yes, all that happened just as he said. But there’s still one major difference, as I’m sure you realise.’ He looked at Erik, raising an eyebrow.

__

‘Me,’ Erik said simply.

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‘You,’ Charles agreed.

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They were silent for a long moment.

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‘What do you think it means?’ Erik said at last. The humorous tone had gone from his voice, a more solemn expression taking its place.

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Charles was quiet for a minute. ‘I think it means that I did something right,’ he said at last, speaking softly. ‘I think it means we were meant to be together. That the world wasn’t right when we didn’t meet ... that _I_ wasn’t right till we met. And so the universe did what it had to do to ensure that the two of us found each other.’

__

Erik didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he shook his head and gave Charles an indulgent look. ‘You are without doubt the soppiest old fool I ever met,’ he said tenderly.

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Charles smiled back at him, his eyes crinkling. ‘Only for you, my love,’ he said.

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‘Glad to hear it,’ Erik said with exaggerated gruffness. ‘Now stop distracting me with your professions of love and let me get back to my book, _Professor_.’

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Charles smirked, but did as he was told.

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And so they went back to sitting quietly on sofa, Erik with a book in his hands and Charles with his feet tucked under Erik’s knee, and everything in their world was perfect once more.

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Ghost stories, after all, only belonged in books.

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End file.
